Saturday, 3 October 2015

Canadream

Having just
spent three weeks touring Canada - well, a small part of British Columbia and
an even tinier part of Alberta, actually - I am more convinced than ever of the
value of preserving cultural diversity. While grateful that the lingua franca, English,
was convenient for me, I note that it came at the cost of the annihilation of most
of the aboriginal peoples and their 230 languages, to be replaced by the
ecological disaster that is global capitalism. Having said that, there are
things to enjoy that are uniquely Canadian and the Government does allocate some
resources to the preservation and restoration of the environment and to the remnants
of the cultures of the First Nations.

As a young
man I was once on the verge of emigrating to Canada, tempted by a promotional
film which featured all its natural beauty in “glorious” Technicolor and a
commentary which emphasised opportunities to prosper on the back of abundant
resources - timber, fish, minerals etc. In the end I didn’t follow in the wake
of pioneering Brits such as those who left clues to their origins in place names
like Didsbury, Tweedsmuir and the Birkenhead River, or those who, more
sensitively, stuck with the exotic-sounding native names like Squamish, or
those who imaginatively named Muleshoe and the Kicking Horse River. Instead I
turned up years later, as a tourist, to see what became of the country I might
have helped to shape.

After a few
days in the impressive city of Vancouver (which, apparently, is regarded as
Hicksville by residents of Toronto) we picked up a campervan and headed towards
the coast, the mountains and the valleys - a tall order in a continent which
has more of these features than you might possibly imagine. We soon found that
in the land of monster trailers and RVs our modest, European-style campervan
was something of a curiosity: one Park Ranger was incredulous and asked what it
was like to drive a vehicle that didn’t have a 5.5 litre engine. My answer was
diplomatically calibrated so as not to give offence by making us sound like invading
eco-warriors. Small it may have been, but the van was loaded with so much
electrical gadgetry that it would have been impossible to ‘camp’ in it without
a 30 amp hook-up: even the bed could not be made up without pressing a button.
No problem: the region is awash with fully-serviced RV campgrounds and it’s
easy to see why. The great outdoors beckons big-time in this part of the world:
it’s vast and beautiful. The tourist industry is geared to it, each centre
vying to out-outdoor the next. Whistler, famed for staging the 2010 winter
Olympics without snow, is a sophisticated resort, but drive further north and
you come to Pemberton - strapline, “the
real outdoors” - and, further still,
you reach Lilooet which is "guaranteed rugged!”

But nature
on such a scale is not without danger: on the coast near Tofino we noted the
road-signs for the tsunami escape route; in the mountains there were warnings
of bears, cougars and moose; in the forests there were graphics indicating
levels of fire-risk; and on the roads there were regulations concerning
snow-chains, winter tires and mandatory seasonal route closures. We experienced
only fine weather, fortunately. And, although we saw a bear ambling along a
railway track, a whale to starboard of our ferry, a coyote slinking through the
bushes, a marmot and a great many tiny black squirrels, none of them appeared
threatening. Nor did we encounter any dangerous Canadians: those we interacted
with were invariably polite and always urged us to “have a great day” - even
the lady ‘flaggers’ at the numerous road-works gave instructions smilingly -
particularly the one who was smoking a joint.

Canada is
too big to explore in three weeks but just think: if King George III had played
his hand more adroitly, it might have been even bigger.